Bringing Up Richard
by Smittenbymarvel
Summary: Richard Grayson? Yes. Robin? Mmmm...not quite yet. Impressionable young boy with a streak of mischief a mile wide that causes Bruce's hair to gray and his heart to burst with love? Why, of course. Warning: this story will contain disciplinary spanking.
1. Chapter 1

**I have no clue what I'll end up doing with this, or how long it will be, but I love writing Bruce and Dick so I couldn't help myself. Enjoy this silly little story from the eyes of an eleven-year-old boy. I'm experimenting with Dick's character, and it isn't the Richard Grayson from the D.C. Universe as much as it is an orphan boy with the same name as that Richard. Hopefully with this story I can grow Dick into the Robin we know from D.C., but make him my own character as well. Enjoy!**

 **...**

Bruce Wayne, the man behind Batman's mask, took me into his home about five and a half years ago. I was just six-years-old then, and had witnessed the death of my parents and five brothers in a fire that took out the entire circus. Yes, the circus. They were acrobats. I was a trainee. I never had the speed and agility that my brothers' had; yet I was the only one to escape the fire alive.

I must say that life at the circus was much different then life at Wayne Manor. I went from being the child of a traveling circus family of nine to being the only son of a billionaire living alone with his butler in a huge mansion and going out at nights to be Batman's, future assistant. I say future assistant because I am not technically his actual assistant. Hence, the fact I sit in the Batmobile while Batman does the fun stuff like take out bad guys and rescue victims. Again, I am not the most agile and speedy.

Most people would think that living with Batman was the greatest thing in the world, but for me, it is the worst. Bruce is an absolute tyrant. Well, maybe not a tyrant; but he is extremely strict and lets me get away with absolutely nothing. Growing up in the circus, I know tons of amazing words, but if I ever use them around Bruce, I end up with a bar of soap in my mouth. And when Bruce is gone, Alfred is no different. I'd heard that Alfred had been very strict with Bruce when he was growing up. Bruce's parents died when he was eight and Alfred raised him from then on, but I think it's worse for me because I have both of them ganging up on me.

For instance, a typical day at Wayne Manor goes something like this…

We'd gone down to the Batcave at exactly eleven o'clock and the next three hours were sheer torture. After we were done sparring, which we always did last, I just lay on the mat, covered in sweat and my lungs about to pop. Bruce carried me off and Alfred gave him an unhappy look.

"You really need to stop pushing him this hard," said Alfred. "You're going to hurt him."

I felt very, very sore, but I was also glad I'd done it. I was always happy after a workout. Not so much during, but always after. Pushups…chin-ups…pushups…sit-ups…pushups…martial arts training…pushups…so on and so forth.

Alfred pulled my sweat drenched shirt over my head and looked me over. "He's bruised," he said, touching my shoulder. I winced but said nothing, glancing longingly at my shirt. It was soaked and smelled something like a professional football team's locker room, but at least it covered my pathetic body. I had always been self conscious about my inability to gain muscle. I just wasn't destined to be rippled and toned, I guess.

Bruce looked and made a face, "I didn't do that."

"Yeah," I said. "Last night when your dumb girlfriend was here and I accidentally dropped my milk and you pinched me." Bruce's hand clamped on the back of my neck but Alfred grabbed his arm.

"Master Bruce, stop, just stop," he said. "Dick, upstairs. Come on." He helped me up and we got on the elevator to go up to the main part of the manor.

We went through the usual after training ordeal of Alfred drawing a bath and me soaking in it for awhile, then me getting dressed and us going downstairs and into the living room where Bruce is.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said, sitting beside him on the couch. Ah, the living room. The one place in the house that wasn't fancy and decked to the ceiling in sophisticated glamour. Bruce thought we needed at least one room that could really be our own, so he set aside one of the living rooms to be a low key, simple, hang out space. If it wasn't for that blessed room I would probably have ripped one of the manor's many chandeliers down by now.

"I have to go out tonight," said Bruce. I realized that he was rather dressed up, which he must have done while I was in the bath. He pulled his foot up onto the edge of the couch and started tying his polished dress shoes.

"With her?" I asked. Bruce glared at me (that seemed to be getting common) and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "Rules for when I'm gone." I raised an eyebrow at his hurried drop of the girlfriend subject. "One, if you bother Alfred in the slightest you will go straight to bed. Two, you will go to bed by ten and if Alfred says earlier then earlier. Three, you will do whatever he tells you. Four, obey all the rules."

"What if I choose to disregard rule four?" I asked cockily. Two seconds later I was face down over Bruce's lap and his hand swatted me hard. He sat me back up just as quickly and smiled.

"Then you'll get more of that when I get home; plus you'll be grounded for a month," he said. I frowned. Bruce sure had a way of making a point. And his hair hadn't even gotten messed up in the process. Leave it to Bruce.

Bruce left and I watched TV. The evening seemed to be passing slower then any other evening any other time in my entire career as a child, and I was about to go insane from boredom when I was showered with the most beautiful idea of all time.

I would become Spiderman.

Spiderman: my childhood obsession. What kid didn't love Spiderman? I grinned, remembering my old Halloween costume tucked somewhere far away in my bedroom closet.

"A few modifications," I grinned, "and viola."

It took me all of thirty seconds to race up the grand staircase and down the hall to my bedroom. Like the living room hang out space, my bedroom was a downscale of the manor's classy magnificence. Baseball stuff…laundry…school papers…it was my castle and my domain. And my closet was bigger then most kids' bedrooms.

Crawling underneath some tuxedos and dress pants, I found the storage container holding old Halloween costumes. Spiderman, the choice pick of two years ago, was near the top.

"Hello, old friend," I grinned.

...

"Utter insanity," said Alfred.

"Mmhmm," I nodded, "I know. I am a bullheaded, stubborn boy that will grow into a vandalizing hoodlum if I don't begin to think through my actions and use wisdom and forethought."

"Hearing my words but not listening, I see," said Alfred, his hands grasping my shoulders, as they had been for the past five minutes of his lecture. After finding me perched atop the grand entryway's chandelier, he had had more then a few choice words. "You can quote the lecture but don't live the advice."

I groaned and shuffled my feet, "Gosh, Alfred, I was just playing around."

"Playing around and endangering not only your life, but a $700,450 chandelier!" exclaimed Alfred. "Richard Grayson, I ought to paddle you until you're brains are rattled."

"Ah, Alfred," I sighed, then I remembered Bruce; jolly, understanding, good ole Bruce. "You won't tell Bruce will you!"

Alfred nodded, "I have to. You cannot disobey Master Bruce like that. He has told you countless times to think before you act and not put your life in unnecessary danger."

"I forgot!" I insisted.

Alfred finally let go of me. "You disobeyed," he said again.

Let me tell you, wearing a Spiderman costume (even if I was minus the mask Alfred had pulled off) really does something to a guy's head. I don't know where I was getting my courage this evening, but I really nodded to kick all my bravery out the door. I swore at Alfred.

It wasn't a really bad word; just a lower scale, acceptable-if-said-by-unhappy-grownups word. Unfortunately that description didn't apply to me.

Alfred did something he had never done before and cuffed my ear. I yelped and ducked his other hand, but he managed to grab my opposite ear and yank me down to the kitchen. He pulled me over to the sink and picked up the bar of soap.

"Open," he said. Gosh, could he and Bruce be anymore alike? I opened my mouth and closed my eyes as the awful thing filled my mouth with awful tastes. "Bite it."

I obeyed and squinted at him. "Twenty seconds," said Alfred. Yep, just like Bruce. Finally, he let me spit it out and rinse my mouth with water. The cool, refreshing liquid had never tasted better.

When I was done, Alfred was standing at the window, looking across the back field. He came over and took me by the ear again, leading me back down the hall and into Bruce's office, a beautiful room I was generally forbidden from entering as Bruce needed it clean and tidy for business transactions.

"What are you doing?" I asked, though I had this awful feeling that I knew exactly what he was doing. Unfortunately, I was right. Alfred picked up a ruler off of Bruce's desk and sat in the chair in front of it. The next second I was across his lap, my pants around my knees.

"No!" I yelled, trying to wiggle free, but I found, almost unbelievingly, that Alfred had a tighter grip then Bruce. Then he was taking aim…just like Bruce. It dawned on me that Bruce must treat me the same way Alfred treated him when he was my age. That's why they were so similar.

Then, the ruler lifted and came down. The smack was literally harder then any whack Bruce had ever given me, and I jolted. I also yelped, but that was from the surprise. The noise that thing made against my backside, even over my boxers, was loud, and mixed with the sting it shocked me.

"Don't!" I cried, but Alfred, of course, ignored me and kept paddling his target, holding back nothing.

"Your strength and endurance are higher then Bruce's were," he said as he continued spanking.

I stopped crying for a brief second to wonder what on earth he meant, but the next smack brought the tears flowing again.

"It is taking longer then it did with Bruce to get you to stop fighting," said Alfred. Oh, that's what he meant. My mind briefly entertained the wonder of how I could possibly be tougher then Bruce was at my age, but the next whack of the ruler chased that question from my brain.

"Please, no more," I begged, but my voice was shaky and I was practically sobbing as I said it. Alfred just kept paddling away, and I was dramatically sure he was going to beat me into unconsciousness. I kept pleading with him through my tears. I was sure I was way too old to be spanked over someone's lap - especially Alfred's - but he wasn't letting me up until he was good and done.

Finally, he stopped and set the ruler on the desk, still keeping me secured across his lap. I didn't really care what happened, though, because I was crying so hard I thought I'd throw up my liver. I felt Alfred get my pants back on me, but he still held me across his knees.

I finally started taking some breaths, and then, after a few minutes, I was barely crying at all. Alfred pulled me up and sat me on his knee just like Bruce did at times. It was really awful with my stinging backside against the man's thigh, but I ignored it as Alfred held me against his chest. I started crying all over again, mostly from the pain of my seat on his knee, but he just held me close and said nothing. When I finally stopped crying he stood me up and held my chin, "Richard, if you ever speak with such disrespect again I will take you over my knee and wallop you with a strap, is that understood?"

I nodded, brushing the tears from my cheeks. "Alfred, I'm sorry," I whimpered, "I don't think you're a…that word. I really don't. I love you, Alfred. I'm sorry!" I started crying again and he held me close.

When I finally stopped sobbing like a baby, Alfred let go of me and sighed, "I still have to tell Bruce of your disobedience."

I groaned and fought back the oncoming tears of fear.

"Bedtime," said Alfred, putting his arm around me and leading me to the door of the office.

"But it's only seven-thirty," I whimpered.

"Bed," Alfred said, firmly, and led me upstairs to my room. For some reason I started crying again and Alfred helped me get into my pajamas and under my blankets. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair off my forehead and I sheepishly will have to admit that I cried myself to sleep.

...

 **Currently wondering why my name is Smittenbymarvel but I write stories in the D.C. Universe. Ah, the irony. Review and let me know what you thought!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoa! I am a Fanfiction writer! Which means I have to abandon my work for months on end and then appear out of nowhere and update. So,** ** _viola_** **, that is what I have done. Thanks for reading and reviewing, guys. It really does mean a lot!**

...

The next morning I got up around nine and showered and dressed. I ran downstairs and found Bruce and Alfred in the kitchen talking. When I came in they stopped and both looked at me but said nothing.

Bruce left for work (yes, he works on Sunday). He never said a word to me. I was in a sort of depressed, bleak state all day. When Bruce got back he came right to me in the living room.

"Dick, Alfred says you gave him a little trouble last night," said Bruce. I hung my head and shrugged. Bruce sighed, "He said you swore and I couldn't help but notice my chandelier is missing."

"Maybe," I said, choosing to ignore his note of sarcasm and adding a little too much growl behind my voice. Bruce really didn't like that, and a second later his hand was gripping the back of my neck and dragging me out of the living room. We went down to his office/den where I knew I would end up across his knee. I didn't like it, and I started crying as we went in. Bruce shook me a bit, "Stop it, Dick." I tried to stop, but I was really a bit scared. My backside still stung like crazy from last night and now Bruce was going to blister me for disobeying him.

I completely expected him to tip me over his knee and have at it, but instead, he pulled me into a hug. "Richard, it's alright," he said. "I know you're probably still sore from last night. Alfred told me he paddled you good. Hey, I thought you were too old for Spiderman?"

"I was a week ago," I whimpered, rather enjoying the feeling of Bruce's arms around me, and feeling even more like a baby then I had pulling that old Spiderman suit on. It had been more of a stupid, rebellious plan than actually wanting to be Spiderman. "I just felt like doing something exciting."

"Oh, I see," said Bruce. "You're giving in to teenage hormones a little early."

"No," I whimpered, completely loving being pressed against his strong chest. For some reason, being held by Bruce was the best thing in the world for me. My parents had always loved me and taught me everything they knew, but I was never held or hugged. Never. It wasn't their way. Bruce did it quite often, and I craved it. I felt a tear slide down my cheek. Then another. Then a lot of tears.

"It's alright, Dick," he said.

"No," I whimpered. "I'm not supposed to cry. I'm too old for that." I honestly did feel like a baby from all the crying I'd been doing. It was totally unnecessary.

"No, Dick," said Bruce. "It's okay to cry. Even I cry, sometimes." That kind of surprised me, because I didn't think Bruce ever cried. I couldn't see him with my face in his shirt, but I could feel him nodding, "Yep, I remember when I was about twelve and Alfred gave me a spanking and I couldn't stop crying. Not really because it hurt, which it did, but because I was upset I'd let him down."

"I'm sorry, Bruce," I whimpered, ignoring the fact that apparently the last time he'd cried was when he was twelve and he was still a big tough man and I was a wimpy, sobbing kid. He held me a little tighter and kissed the top of my head, something he only did when I was really upset.

"It's okay, Dick, I know, I forgive you, buddy," he said. We sat that way for a good ten minutes, and I must have fallen asleep because next thing I knew Alfred was pulling my shirt off and sliding me into my pajama top and Bruce was situating the blankets on my bed. Alfred lay me down and Bruce covered me up. I heard them talking, but I was too out of it to know what they were saying, then Alfred left and Bruce sat beside me, running his fingers through my hair. I was slightly ecstatic that he hadn't spanked me, but was so emotionally a mess I wasn't really thinking about it.

"Bruce," I mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"I know, I know," he said. "Just go to sleep, Dick." And apparently that's exactly what I did because when I opened my eyes again, Bruce was gone and it was morning.

...

I got ready for school as quickly as possible and ran downstairs to the kitchen. Bruce was already eating. I was late, as usual.

"Late," he said.

"Sorry," I replied, sitting across from him. Oatmeal, also as usual. I was kind of glad everything was usual. It was better then getting into trouble.

"Do you have everything for school?" asked Bruce.

"Yes, sir," I nodded, sticking my spoon in the oatmeal. I made a face but began eating it.

"Homework?"

"Yes, sir," I sighed, leaning against the table.

"Sit up straight," said Bruce.

I obeyed and caught myself before I rolled my eyes. Maybe usual wasn't good all the time.

"Master Bruce, you should leave or Richard will be late," said Alfred, clearing away our dishes.

"Oh, thank you, Alfred," said Bruce. "Come on, Dick, let's go." I was grateful I didn't have to finish my oatmeal, and we went to the door. Bruce took down my coat from the closet and handed it to me, and I grabbed my backpack from inside the closet door. We went out the side entrance of the mansion and got into the Rolls Royce. Upside of being rich is the fancy cars.

On the way to school, Bruce glanced at my backpack and said, "I never got a chance to check your homework."

"I did it, honest," I said, but my heart was pounding in my chest. I had done some of it…

"Take it out and show me," said Bruce. I almost had a stroke. I opened my backpack and took out the papers that I had done. "That's it?" said Bruce. "Your teacher is taking it easy on you."

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling relief and fear at the same time. By now we were at the school so I put my stuff back in the backpack and jumped out. "Bye, Bruce," I said.

"See ya, buddy," he grinned, and pulled away from the curb, leaving me watching after him and wanting to kick myself for lying.

...

My teacher gathered all our homework and checked it while we did some math problems, and I knew immediately when he got to mine.

"Richard Grayson," he said. I looked up quickly. "Come here, please," said Mr. Horton. I stood, very slowly, and walked up to him. He leaned across his desk and said, "You didn't complete all the work, and the problems you did do are sloppy and most of them wrong. You've done this everyday for a week, young man, and I can't seem to get you to do anything right. Take this note down to the principal's office."

"But, sir…" I said.

"Go, Mr. Grayson," ordered Mr. Horton, quietly but sternly. I sighed and took the note and left the classroom. I knew everyone was watching me, but I refused to look at them.

The hall to the principal's is probably the longest stretch of walking distance in the entire world. I was almost there, when from around the corner stepped someone I had hoped I would never, ever, ever, ever, ever see in my entire life.

"Joker!" I gasped,.

I was really confused. What on earth was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Arkham Prison.

"Hey, little fella," he said, stretching his deformed mouth into a wicked smile. "Bruce Wayne's rich baby boy? Have a good rest, kiddo." He lifted a gun and pulled the trigger, and immediately some weird smoke came out and I felt my eyes closing as I fell into the Joker's arms.

...

 **Well, okay, this was a terrible chapter. But I have zero writing ambition right now so it was a quick shot in the dark. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, though! You guys are great!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, what's this? Two chapters one right after the other? I must be a wizard! Anyway...another addition so we don't all freak out over Joker.**

 **...**

The water dripping onto my neck was possibly one of the most annoying things that had ever happened to me. I was so exhausted that the thought of reaching up to wipe my neck dry was almost terrifying. But it was starting to slide down my shirt and that was not cool.

And then came the awkward moment when I began to reach up and a loud CLINK rang out, echoing slightly, and my eyes flew open. In the first two seconds of my eyes adjusting to the dim light, I was able to assume the following: I was leaning against a hard, wet, concrete wall; one of those posts that are waist-high and in parking garages was directly in front of me and I was handcuffed to it; I _was_ in a parking garage, for that matter, and it was empty; correction, it was almost empty...the Joker paced back and forth a few parking spaces down.

"It's like this, rich boy," he said. I pulled my knees up close to my chest as best as I could. He knew I was awake. "Your daddy sends me 50 million, and you get to go home. On the flipside, if Daddy Wayne doesn't send the money by daybreak...which is approximately four hours...then I will throw you to the sharks. Dealio, kiddy?"

I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by 'the sharks', but I WAS entirely sure I didn't want to find out.

"Ahhh, the smell of evil," giggled the Joker, not waiting for my answer. "It is so soothing, isn't it. Like being rocked to sleep. Can you smell the evil, Dickie? Can you?" He suddenly ran toward me and skidded to his knees, inches from my face. My heart leapt into my throat and stopped pumping and I could smell the paint plastered across his face. I didn't think that was the evil he was talking about, but it was close enough for me.

The water on my neck was freezing and I wanted nothing more then to rub it away.

Joker sighed, "I remember when I was a boy. That was a very long time ago. I wasn't quite the suave looker you are, but I had ladies. And lots of them." He grinned, his scars stretching painfully under the paint, "Ever slept around?"

I stared at him, still not sure if he was expecting me to answer. I didn't think I could speak if I tried. Half of me wished I was wearing my Spiderman costume. The other half realized how ridiculous that would be.

"Sweetie!" yelled the Joker, turning his head and yelling across the garage. "Bring our little millions a drink, would ya?"

I was suddenly very conscious of my parched throat and need for water (in my mouth, not on my neck).

"Coming, you, devil, you," came a female voice from the shadows. I knew instantly it must be Harley Quinn. Alfred and Bruce had discussed her in detail in the cave when they thought I was obediently in bed.

I was wrong.

Long, black legs emerged from the shadows, revealing a black torso, arms, hair, and mask. It was Selina. Catwoman. Miss Kyle. The woman who sat at our formal dining table once a week and then made lots of noise with Bruce in his bedroom all night long. My heart started pumping again, but only long enough to reach maximum speed and then explode entirely.

"Hiya, Richie," she said. "How is your father?" She knelt beside me and unscrewed the cap of a water bottle. She held it to my lips and I drank, thirstily, before pulling my head away. Some water spilled onto the front of my shirt. "What's the matter, darling?" she asked. "Don't you remember me? Aunt Selina? I'll probably be your mommy soon if Bruce pops the question."

I glanced at the Joker. He had his back to us, staring over the side of the rail over Gotham. Selina put her hand to my cheek and turned my head. She put a finger to her lips then leaned in close so I could feel her warm breath on my ear, "He doesn't know."

Every bone in my body screamed instantaneously in relief. He didn't know. Joker didn't know Bruce was Batman. Selina was keeping quiet. But why was she even here? Since when was she working with Gotham's clown?

Before I could say anything, though, the Joker spun around, his coat flapping behind him. "Tonight we win, kitten," he purred to Selina. "Batsy knows nothing. Wayne delivers the cash. Dickie's death makes tomorrow's headlines."

My ears exploded along with my heart. That was it. I was going to die. Whether Bruce sent the money or not, I was going to die. Bruce had no clue where we were so Batman couldn't help. Come morning, I would be slashed to pieces with a jagged smile cut into my cheeks. And I would never see Bruce again.

...

"Bruce, you be more careful than you ever have!" Alfred's voice was hoarse and tears glistened in his tired eyes.

"Don't wait up," grunted Bruce, sarcastically, as he yanked his mask on and slid into the Batmobile. Tonight, all care was out the window. Tonight he was saving Dick's life. Tonight he was killing as the Batman for the first time. Tonight the Joker's blood would be on his hands. Tonight he would redefine Gotham's savior forever. Tonight was his greatest hour.

...

 **okay, I love writing in the Batman Begins universe. Anyway, review if you want! Thanks for reading! Au revior**


	4. Chapter 4

**Howdy hey, mates. Back again at the ole paper and quill. Enjoy.**

 **...**

"Why hasn't your playboy delivered yet?" hissed Joker, his body bent over the side of the parking garage wall, breeze tussling his hair.

"He'll deliver," assured Selina. "I know how much this little brat means to him. He'd die for him."

I looked up at the two of them. Die for me? I guess I knew Bruce would do whatever it took to protect me, but death had never crossed my mind. Kind of funny to die for someone you didn't even love enough to adopt. Not to say I didn't appreciate everything Bruce did for me. In fact, I rather worshiped him as a role model. But it always bothered me that I was still Richard Grayson, not Wayne. Not that I was very good son material. If I was my guardian I probably wouldn't adopt me either.

"You're certain the Batman won't show," said Joker, his posture admitting nervousness. I'd be nervous too if I thought Batman was after me.

"Very certain," said Selina, smiling. "I've suggested a...friend to him. I'm sure they'll be enjoying themselves well into the night."

"You had better be very sure," said Joker, glancing sideways at Selina, "because if I see so much as his shadow, I will shoot you right between the eyes."

Selina licked her lips and leaned in close to Joker, "I'm sure you will."

I raised an eyebrow. Why was Selina lying about the Batman? If she was working with Joker, wouldn't she have told him about Bruce? My mind flashed back to the night I'd seen Selina and Bruce in the Batcave. Selina had been dressed in the least amount of clothing I had ever seen a woman in real life wearing. Bruce had been holding her upper arms, looking exactly like he did **S** right before he would grab my ear or lecture me about something.

"I'm promising you protection," he'd said in a voice similar to Batman's. "Protection no matter the cost. Just for the sake of my name. Promise me, Selina."

"On my life, Bruce," she'd said. "I'll never tell a soul."

Maybe protection meant more to Selina then the Joker's death threat. Whatever her reason for staying quiet, I was relieved that Bruce's secret was still kept.

I jumped when the Joker's face appeared inches from mine, his tongue licking his lips, smudging the paint a bit. I wondered if it tasted gross. "Where. Is. Daddy?" he hissed, each word emphasized. Despite being scared out of the ability to speak, I wasn't sure what he even expected me to say.

"Look."

The Joker and I turned to see what Selina was referring to, and both of our eyes fell on the long shadow stretching across the cement lot, the moon causing each edge and corner of the figure to appear clearly in the blackness. The sound of a cape catching the wind reached my ears and then the moon was blocked out by a completely black figure and the Batman dropped directly on top of Joker.

For the next few minutes, my point of view was slightly scewed since the two of them managed to roll into the shadows, but I was distinctly aware of the fact that Batman was not fighting as hard as he was certainly capable. In fact, he was failing quite badly. I could see the shadowy outline of the Joker pounding mercilessly on him, and Batman was grunting and struggling under the bigger man's weight. I squinted at the two of them, pulling on my handcuffs to get closer. I could have sworn Bruce was bigger than Joker.

"Dick."

The whisper in my ear scared me half to death and I gasped, jumping.

"Sh! Sh!" soothed the voice. "Hold still."

Bruce. That was the voice of billionaire Bruce Wayne in my ear. How on earth...

"Bruce?" Selina's voice sounded equally confused through the darkness. "What...who is..."

"Well, well, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce had just finished unhandcuffing me, and he pulled me to my feet and behind his back as the Joker approached us from the darkness.

"Its a pleasure to see you," giggled the man. "I'm not sure what that Batman stunt was about. The real Batman would never cry while I pummeled him. Your money can't even buy a good faker. Real Batman out of town? Too bad for the Wayne family." Joker reached into his coat and took a knife out, the blade glinting in the moonlight. "Ahhh I thought about being sly and tricky with this, but I think straight up killing you will be more fulfilling. I'd like to do the boy first. My love," he grinned at Selina, "bring the little darling over please."

Selina's arm wrapped around my bicep and she hissed in my ear, "Obey my every word."

My heart thudded like a train in my chest. What on earth was going on. Who was that Batman? Why was Selina acting like this?

"Please," said Bruce, a hint of emotion in his voice, "leave my boy alone. Let him go. He's just a child."

"Ah, I know, but I haven't practiced on a child in so long," Joker sighed. "Give him to me, my kitten."

I could feel the blood pounding in my ears as Selina's grip loosened and the Joker's hand tightened around my wrist. I saw the blade flash across my face as the Joker yanked it up to his face for the momentum to plunge it into me. I was dying. I was going to die. Realizing your life is over is one of the most surreal feelings in the entire world.

I closed my eyes.

The next sound I heard was not, in fact, my scream as the knife cut me open. It was, for the record, a gunshot followed by the sound of the knife clattering to the ground. I opened my eyes and saw the Joker fall straight backwards, his hand releasing my wrist. I stared in shock as he hit the ground beside the knife; then Bruce's arms were wrapping around my body and picking me up, crushing my body against his. I could feel his body shaking slightly. He was scared. Scared that I could have died.

"Dick," he whispered.

And suddenly there were flashing lights and voices shouting and policemen swarming, but I was barely conscious of any of them. I wrapped my arms tightly around Bruce's neck.

"Bruce," I hiccuped, fear hitching my voice. And for the first time since I'd met him, I realized I loved Bruce Wayne.

...

 **Tada! A chapter! How exciting.**


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